Sins of the Past
by dethrow
Summary: Four boys who never really knew about each other until the day they realized that they were all the same, they were outcasts. Now, it's time for them to show everyone what a group of misfits can do. The question is, how? Chapter 4 is finally done.
1. High School Woes

**Introduction: **_This is a story of 4 boys who were shunned by society and billed as outcasts. Each with their own hardships and torment, these four teenagers find themselves in the company of each other. Together they try to survive the mean streets of the city and maybe prove that they are more than what people think they are._

* * *

Principal James Barbers sat behind his musty old oak desk in his little office on the third floor. His hands were rubbing his forehead, trying to ease a headache. He had been there in Walter High School since the early hours of four in the morning. 

James looked at his watch and took in a deep sigh. It was already 4:45 in the afternoon. The sun was going down faster than usual which really didn't please him. It only reminded him of how little time was left before the day ended while there was so much more for him to do.

Beads of sweat showed on his almost completely bald head, no doubt the works of his profession. Only strands of hair remained, strands of bland grayish hair that circled around the middle. He took another deep sigh and let the weight of his body disappear, succumbing to the soft and plushy chair. These were the only few moments of relaxation he could afford; however little time they may be, he still needed every bit of it.

It would be a few more hours before he could call it a day. There was still paperwork to be done, which was the only thing that never seemed to run out apart from the school fights, the constant whining of the faculty and pretty much anything bad that happened in a school.

After that, he'd have to check every single room of the whole school and lock everything up. From the classrooms to the music room to the bathrooms, he'd go through them all. It was a tiresome routine but he did it without complaint. He did it for 20 years of his life knowing that he didn't have to.

Just as he was about to doze off a knock on the door startled him. A grimfaced man entered even before James could respond. He looked like a no-nonsense man with his thick glasses, clean-cut hair and an equally unnerving face. James looked up and found the man standing in an almost stiff-like manner, his steely eyes boring into James'.

"Principal Barbers," the man spoke up, "here are the records of the four boys who had caused the mayhem awhile back."

"Thank you, William." James replied as William set down a folder he had been carrying on to the desk. James put on his reading glasses and took the folder. Inside it were four pieces of paper. He carefully read each one, and then could only show shock after he had finished.

"T-T-These boys just transferred here. They haven't even lasted a week." James spoke out, rereading the papers back and forth.

"Yes, all four had just transferred." William repeated his words, adjusting his specs.

"James read out loud the name of one of the boys. "Marcus Thompson. 18 years old. A senior. He's been kicked out of 7 schools already—well, no wonder. Arrested 12 times including shoplifting, underage drinking, possession of firearms, smoking of marijuana and buying and selling of illegal narcotics."

"He's not what you would call a perfect student." William quipped, again straightening his glasses.

"Right... and who's this?" James read the next one. "Joey Atreides. Another senior. Is he Greek or something?"

"Spanish. He was taken by child welfare from his parents at a young age. He is now currently living with an uncle."

"I doubt he was more than happy with that." James switched to the next one.

"Quite." William continued, "He seems to demonstrate rebellious characteristics, the type who lets his actions do the talking."

"Uh-huh. And this one. Jason Salsberry, another senior. Haven't I heard of that name before?"

"He used to attend school here, six years ago, until the incident. It did seem unusual that he was involved with the other three troublemakers. He was a very passive boy, almost to the point of being a pushover."

"Isn't that always the case," James butted-in, looking back at William, "too much pent-up rage finally bursting out. You know what they say, the quiet ones are always the ones most dangerous."

"I... I suppose." William paused. "Anyway, the last boy is Terrence Matthews—"

"Yeah, the weird kid." James interrupted again. "I saw him on the 2nd floor bathroom the other day, trying to cut himself. When I took the razor away from his hands, he suddenly started mumbling and left like I was never there."

"Yes, his past records show that he was sent to a psychiatrist once who concluded that he was showing signs of psychopathic behavior." William said as-a-matter-of-factly.

"Well, I'll tell you. This boy needs some serious counseling, and I don't mean me. I mean a real counselor. I'm getting tired of talking to these kids with their problems when I don't even know what the hell to do with mine."

He closed the folder and set it down the desk again. His fingers pressed against his eyelids, he took a deep breath.

"Very well, Mr. William. You may send the boys in."

William began to walk towards the door but stopped before reaching the doorknob. He turned around and said, "Are you going to expel them, sir?"

Principal Barbers rubbed his forehead once more, putting down his glasses.

"We'll see."


	2. Life Of A Misfit

**4 Days Ago**- _**Start of the School Year**_

"_Goooooooood morning, Vanderville! It's a bright sunny morning today. And for those of you who didn't know, today's the first day of school. I know, it's a load a' shit_—_what, I can't say that on air_—_well, sorry, nobody gave me my meds today. …Anyways, don't you worry cause' Punk Master Flex is here to give you the most killer tunes out there on the West Side. Here's one from self-proclaimed 'World's Greatest Gangbanger' Ferguson Ullisis Coltraine 'Kyle' Ullman a.k.a. F.U.C. — ...hey, my mic went out. Oh, it's back…well here's his new single 'Where my hoes at, bitch?'. You're listening to WSX 101.9 FM Radio. THE place for your music fix."_

* * *

"Awww, man." Marcus stretched himself while still lying on the bed. He took the radio clock on his bedside table and gazed at it bleakly. 7:10 AM.

Marcus Thompson, an 18 year old African American kid. A boy of medium build who stands at 5 feet 10 inches tall and has ink black hair fixed into cornrows.

He got out of bed after a few minutes feeling cross and sleep deprived. After he took a bath and got dressed, he proceeded to go downstairs for a hearty breakfast which consisted of cold cereal and day old milk.

"_Yum."_ Marcus thought to himself as he went down. He suddenly heard pans clanging below to which he could only assume that there was an unwanted individual prying in the house.

Marcus slowly tiptoed his way down the remaining steps and readied himself to pounce on the intruder. The neighborhood taught him this lesson a few years ago when he mindlessly announced himself as he descended from the stairs resulting in an ambush by two burglars.

On that day he lost his two front teeth when a baseball bat came in contact with his face. The robbers would have done much worse to him if it wasn't for his mother, Janet, showing up just in time brandishing a shotgun and shooting the two men down.

This time though it was the other way around. Marcus was able to relax as he saw his mother near the kitchen sink making herself a cup of coffee. This came as a surprise because his mother never really showed up that much.

"M-Mom, you're…uh, here." Marcus blurted out albeit in a relieved manner.

She looked at his son, showing a face laden with make-up and generally being annoyed at his response.

"Of course I'm here. I live here." She snapped and then took a sip of her coffee.

Marcus waved off her snide tone and instead took his seat on the table, pulling a box of cereal to the bowl in front of him.

"Did you pay the electric bill already cause I didn't get any money from you." He asked her, trying to make conversation.

Janet took a while before she answered her son's question. When she finally did, she only replied with a nod. It wasn't until after a few minutes of silence that he decided to speak yet again.

"H…Have you found a new job yet?"

This time her mother spoke. "Yeah, some kind of desk clerk downtown. The job starts at eight and ends at noon so I can still go to my other job_—_"

At this point, Marcus' timid demeanor exploded with anger. "Damn it, Ma! The reason I wanted you to have another job was so you could quit the old one."

"You know I can't stop being a prostitute," Janet said softly but still in an intense manner. Marcus momentarily cringed at the word that so rudely associated his mother. "That's the only thing keeping us afloat here."

Marcus continued his plea in an angrier tone, "But you were almost beaten to_—_"

"Look, you let me worry about that." She said firmly without raising her voice. "YOU should only be worrying about school."

Her eyes flashed reproachfully at him. Marcus could only feel guilt about that little stab at him which silenced him from his ongoing rant.

Then his mother's face softened. She let out a great motherly sigh. "Hon, I just want you to have a better life than this. I-I know I can't give you that but I do know a good education can. I just know it will."

She looked at him teary-eyed, holding back tears of shame at her wasted life. She put up a feeble smile to hide her insecurities from her son. But in the end, she just cast away her sobs and reverted back to her old stern self.

Marcus wanted to resume with his complaint, but decided it wasn't the time anymore to do so…because he was going to be late.

He quickly downed his cereal as fast as he could. Before finishing his mom walked over and took out a folded twenty dollar bill from her bra, handing it to him.

"Here, your allowance for the week."

He took the money and then garbled a thank you out of his cereal filled mouth.

As Marcus left the house, he was greeted by his friend Damian. He and Damian had been friends ever since the 3rd grade when they first met while doing detention. Now Damian was also an African American. He has about the same build as Marcus only he was 5 inches shorter. Always tied a blue bandanna over his bald head and wore clothes that were one size too big for him.

"Whassup' up, M?" Damian greeted him, sticking out his hand.

Marcus slapped it with his own hand and the two walked on towards the bus stop.

"So what you gonna do today, M? Hang out at the liquor store? The park? The playground?" Damian asked in a carefree attitude.

Ah, I'm…gonna go to school today." Marcus replied. There was something eating up inside of him ever since leaving the house and he thought it had everything to do with what he had just said.

Damian made a look of surprise. "W-What? You…going to school? You been watching Sesame Street again, haven't you."

"No, man. It's just, you know, it's the first day." Marcus said as they reached the bus stop sign.

"Eh, yeah but you usually start your first day until next week." Damian countered.

"I just-just felt like doing it." He mentally contemplated the words his mother said. In 18 years of his life it was the only time he actually cared what his mother said.

The bus came after 8 minutes of waiting, 5 minutes late than usual. They flashed their bus passes and then took their seats near the door. Damian sat with his arms outstretched and his feet protruding straight out. Marcus sat beside him in a more casual manner.

"A'ight, man. Damian said. "If you wanna go to some school, it's cool with me. It's not like we do anything useful here, anyway."

"Thanks, D. I knew you'd feel me." Marcus responded. He felt a little relieved inside that there wasn't anymore questions about the subject.

"Hey, just remember to go to the bar afterwards." Damian added in a more serious tone. "The boss' been bitching my ear off about when you gonna show up. You know you still have to pay those beer bottles you broke."

"I told you, those fuckheads started the fight. Not me." Marcus protested irritably.

"Well, whatever. He'll be really pissed if he thinks you're not planning on paying him. When that happens who you think he's gonna take it out on."

"Alright, I'll pay him. Man, don't worry." Marcus somewhat jovial mood quickly vanished. He was back to his old frustrated self again.

At about 6 minutes till' eight the bus reached Walter High School. Marcus hastily jumped out of the bus and ran towards the school gates.

His friend stuck his head out the window, shouting a few parting words. "Hey don't forget, M. Go to the bar later. A'ight?"

Marcus had past the gates when he flagged his hand upwards. He tried to look back at the bus but instead caught himself colliding with the person in front. Both of them fell to the ground. While Marcus easily got up after a few seconds, the other fellow wasn't too eager to do the same.

"You alright, man?" Marcus said to him, offering out his hand.

The fallen boy only stared at Marcus' outstretched hand as if he wasn't sure what it meant. Nonetheless, Marcus retained his posture and eventually the boy took his help.

Marcus looked at him curiously. The boy stood at 5'9, almost as tall as him except he was skinny beyond compare. Add to that was his very pale complexion which might have been due to the numerous cuts on both his forearms. His brown bangs brushed to the left side of his face.

He also had two different eye colors; his right eye was the color blue and his left was green. The only other thing that struck out was a deep scar resting on his left cheek.

"Uh, sorry about that. It was my fault, didn't see you walking by." Marcus apologized, picking up some books the boy dropped.

He didn't utter a word until he had gotten back his books.

"…Uh, y…yeah…the books…I-I dropped them…and…you picked them up…" he finally responded, seemingly aloof about the person in front of him.

Things became more awkward for the two of them, well, for Marcus anyway. He didn't know what to say next until he remembered that it was almost time for classes.

"Oh, man. We're gonna be late." Marcus said with a hint of urgency. "First time I try to make a good impression in this new school and already it's going bad."

He started his way back again when the boy unexpectedly spoke.

"…hey…are…are…y-you new here?" The boy meekly said.

"Yeah, you too?" Marcus responded.

"…I'm a new kid…" He sounded more eager at this revelation but was far from acting jovial.

Still, Marcus' view of the boy changed drastically. He suddenly felt more compelled to befriend the fellow beginner. Before he could though, the boy began pacing past him.

"Hey, um, man. Wait." Marcus called out to him.

The boy stopped and turned around. "We're gonna be late…"

"…I didn't catch your name." He pointed out, realizing that he really didn't know the student's name.

"…my name?" The reply came like it was a question to himself. He stood there, dumbfounded, until he found it in his senses to speak again. "…i-it's Terrence."

Marcus walked slowly over to him. "…Terrence, huh. I'm Marcus…now, come on."

With that, the two ran off towards the school, unaware of the danger that lurks ahead. They were already late.


	3. Welcome To Walter High

Marcus and Terrence stopped in front of the closed door of Room 319. It's glass window giving out a peek of what was inside. Clearly, class had started with the numerous students in their seats and the teacher's voice resonating from the inside.

Marcus looked back at Terrence who was beside him. "This your class, too?"

Terrence simply nodded and then quietly stared at him, waiting on what to do next. Marcus figured that there was no point in waiting any longer but decided they enter from the back. Slowly, they walked past the door, being careful not to be seen from the window.

Once they reached the back door, Marcus cusped the doorknob and gently turned it. He tried to enter the room as quietly as he could with Terrence just a few steps behind. They even crouched as they tip-toed, but alas, a harsh voice called out to them in front.

"Well, what do we have here? A couple of tardy schoolboys trying to slither away from their punishment."

The two boys fixated their eyes on the only other person standing in the whole room. The man, who was obviously the teacher, stood there eyeing them despicably and with a sense of cruelty in his eyes.

He wore a slightly worn-out brown Norfolk jacket that matched his neatly combed light brown hair and dark brown pants. His timid frame, a bit thin and of average height, was quite the opposite compared to his attitude.

The man's grim face stared hard at the two boys. They sensed that this man thrived on abusing his power, taking pleasure in humiliating those who cannot fight back. That's why people like him chose this kind of profession.

Marcus was no stranger to this, being the favorite target numerous times in the past. He once attacked a teacher who had continually harassed and publicly embarrassed him for the last time. With what he did to the poor man it was a wonder that he only got expelled for it.

The teacher's eyes shifted from Marcus to Terrence who stood frozen while still crouching beside the door. Whether he did this because he was too shocked to move or he thought staying in this position would prevent the teacher from seeing him, Marcus didn't know.

"You, boy." The teacher called out to Marcus. "Your name."

"Um, uh, Marcus. Thompson." He added that last word as if he forgot to.

"And you?" His harsh stare came back to Terrence.

"..Terrence M-Matthews." He simply said. A look of bewilderment in his eyes.

The teacher's brow furrowed and then steadied again, yet his irk at the two boys didn't wane.

"You see, class" The teacher addressed to the whole room, "These boys here seem to be suffering from the term 'time mismanagement'. Or, more appropriately called 'lazy sloth'."

He walked briskly to his desk beside the blackboard, pulled out a stack of papers fastened together, took two pieces and began writing on it.

"But, I'm sure," he said after finishing, handing the pieces of paper to the nearest student and pointing him to pass it to the two boys. "You'll be learning all about it in detention."

Marcus stood there with a disbelieving stare. He took the piece of paper that had his name on and saw in big bold letters the words 'DETENTION' and 'TARDY'.

He thought to himself how unfair the teacher handled the situation. It was true that they were late but he didn't expect it to come to this, especially since it was the first day. He wanted to crumple the piece of paper and was close to doing so until the teacher fired back at him.

"You crumple that piece of paper, young man, and you'll be seeing yourself in detention until graduation day."

Marcus held himself from exploding in anger. _Not on the first day. Not on the first day. _He thrust the piece of paper in his back pocket and forced out an unconvincing smile. This seemed to please the teacher, probably not because of the effort but more of the apparent frustration Marcus was showing.

The teacher motioned for him to sit down and he pulled up a chair at the very back, next to the window. Terrence came scurrying behind, sitting in the chair next to his. Once they were settled in, the professor went on with his speech.

"As I was saying, I am your new advisor and physics professor, Mr. McCain Coltaire." He said haughtily.

"Take note, it is pronounced 'Muc-hhhh—Cain'. Not 'Mac-Cain'. Not 'M-Cain'. Also, Coltaire is pronounced as 'Colth-ierre' like with the French. Again, you do not say my name as 'Colta-ire' or 'Coltire'. Anyone who thinks of even doing so will receive 5 times more homework, not just for you but for the whole class."

Mr. Coltaire paused and looked around the silent class with content. Marcus supposed that he liked giving out this little threat as much as he wanted for someone to challenge it.

"Name elocutions aside, I have been in this school for 17 years. I've seen all of them, the good, the bad, and the disobedient." He broke his gaze to the class and contemplated something amusing to him, coupled with a chuckle. "Ah, yes. I have seen them all, no doubt. And I don't expect anything different with the lot of you. In this school…"

"_Yeah, yeah, yeah. Blah, blah, blah, whatever." _Marcus rolled his eyes in his bored state, landing right on the wall clock.

It was only 8:05 the clock read. Then suddenly he realized that they couldn't have been late. Mr. Coltaire's tired and degrading speech alone would have taken 20 minutes. He wasn't really sure; it felt like he had been going on for hours. But one thing was certain. They weren't late, it was Mr. Coltaire who started early.

This just fueled his anger even more. He wanted to strangle the overbearing professor's head. Or at least call out his name wrong since he had been daring anyone who had the guts, and he _had_ guts. He could only grimace in his seat and force himself to calm down. He looked around for something to distract his thoughts, eventually landing his glance at Terrence.

The boy was sitting quietly in his seat; not that he was listening to the teacher's ongoing discourse but fixed on a notebook which he was writing on. He wrote hastily, a look of anguish in his eyes. Nothing seemed to divert his attention anywhere else but in that notebook.

"Hey!" Marcus called to him in a slightly hushed voice. Terrence kept on writing, unaware of anything.

Marcus edged closer to him and called out again. "Hey!!" No response. This time Marcus stretched his farthest, getting a good grip on his armchair so as not to fall.

"Terrence!" He said in a louder tone. "Hey, man—" …and then his chair stumbled over.

The class started laughing but Mr. Coltaire quickly silenced them. He did not look pleased at all. "Mr. Thompson, class has barely begun and already you're dozing off."

Marcus sat on the floor, embarrassed and his anger boiling up again. He turned to Terrence, who had finally noticed his presence, casting him an irritated look.

"…What?" It was the only word Terrence could say. He didn't understand what Marcus was fuming about.

"Mr. Thompson," The professor intervened. "Why, for god sake's, are you looking at—"

Before Mr. Coltaire could finish, the door burst open. Two boys casually entered the room amidst all the turning heads.

One of them was short compared to the other, about 5'7 in height and somewhat thin. His black hair was all scraggly in the front and reaching up to the collar of his aqua blue tropical shirt forming like mullet. He also wore white baggy shorts to go along with his look. His demeanor, Marcus thought, seemed to be quite daring yet at the same time cool and levelheaded.

His partner was a complete contrast. A tall and bulky fellow, he was bigger than Marcus, standing at 6'3 and close to 300 pounds. He was wearing a woolen jumper and blue jeans, looking sullen with his shoulders hunched over. His hair was brown, short and clean cut. Marcus noticed two guys in front of him who were eyeing the boy in a malicious way. Both students wore matching red jackets with the school logo emblazoned in the back.

Meanwhile, Mr. Coltaire's anger was also rising. "And why are the two of you so very late coming in my class?"

The mullet haired boy spoke first, raising his arm in a relaxed manner. "Uh, yeah, professor, sir. I was in the other section earlier but they decided to transfer me here."

"Who transferred you here? Was it Mr. Gatsby?" Mr. Coltaire asked, questioning his validity. It was actually a trick question, there was no Mr. Gatsby.

"Uhm, no sir. It was Ms. Leticia." The boy replied, scratching his head.

"Oh…her. Erh, very well." He abruptly stopped his inquiring, turning slightly pink.

That quickly disappeared and then turned to the other boy. "And what about you?"

The hulking fellow stood timidly on the spot. He had his head down, trying to avoid the other students' stares toward him.

"Well?" The teacher said impatiently.

"I…I was late," He started, still not looking up. His voice didn't sound very deep as one would expect for a guy his size. "Because my mum woke up late and—"

"Your MOM?!" Mr. Coltaire repeated in a mix of shock and sarcasm. "Are you saying that your mom still drives you to school?!"

The whole class snickered, particularly the two boys who were laughing louder than anyone. The massive boy flushed bright red, continuing his gaze on the floor and starting to sweat profusely.

The professor looked at him mockingly. "Answer me, boy. Yes or no. It's as simple as that."

The boy bit his lip, seemingly close to breaking down. Slowly he opened his mouth and spat out a barely audible sound. "Y-Yes, sir."

The professor smiled wryly then moved back to his desk. He took two more detention slips and began writing on it.

"Besides your obvious punishment for coming in late without a justifiable excuse I will also be giving you your own homework, Mr. Salsberry. Study the first 3 chapters of your physics textbook regarding the periodic tables."

He finished writing the first one and ushered the large fellow Salsberry to take it.

"Tomorrow I will give out a quiz about it. But it wouldn't be fair for only one student to take the test. So tomorrow, all of you will be taking the test." Mr. Coltaire said, thoroughly delighted with himself.

The class groaned in unison. Some of them threw dirty looks at Salsberry. The two jocks suddenly weren't as full of themselves as before, seething at the meek boy that caused all this.

"Way to go, Pussy-berry." One of the jocks shouted in a low tone. His physique was considerably the same as Salsberry's, only faintly shorter in height and a more athletic figure. He had blond flattop hair on his squarely shaped head.

Mr. Coltaire had been writing on the second detention slip when he spoke again.

"As for you," he said, directing to the other late comer. "Your name?"

"Joey Atreides. Professor, sir."

"Well, Mr. Atreides" Mr. Coltaire said, giving the other slip to him. "You may have a good reason for being late but you also violated school rules. Hair is not supposed to exceed below the neck for male students. Detention right after class."

The teacher gave him a triumphant glare and then turned his back, picking up a piece of chalk and started writing on the blackboard.

"Alright, class. As I was saying—"

"Um, teacher, sir, professor." Joey interrupted, raising his hand in front of him, signaling that he had a question.

"It's Mr. Coltaire." He said, irritated. "Mr. McCain Coltaire."

"Yes, um, Mr. Colt-hair, sir. Aye' can't do detention today, sir." Joey said coolly, offering back the detention slip.

The chalk in Mr. Coltaire's hand broke, stopping his writing. He slowly spun around to face Joey, who was trying to act innocent of the situation.

"And, dare I say, why not?" He asked in gritted teeth, looking at Joey with bloodshot eyes.

Joey put it in the most modest way that he could. "Why, sir, it's because I have a very dear dentist appointment this afternoon."

"Oh, is that so? And they're giving me the Nobel Prize in Physics at lunch time." He snapped.

"I don't think that's likely with your standards. But I do have a permission slip from my parents."

Joey took out a piece of paper from his pocket shorts and handed it to Mr. Coltaire, swiping it unpleasantly. He read the note and then stood there, stunned. His hand shook with rage, he went back to Joey who smiled cunningly.

"H-How c-could you…y-you couldn't h-have even…" He continued to look bewildered and full of spite at Joey. His hatred tempering over this one boy. This one Joey Atreides who had outsmarted him, in front of his whole class.

He feigned at hideous smile in response, giving back the note. "Alright, boy. You're excused, but tomorrow you serve out your sentence." He finished with an air of finality in his voice, returning his attention to the board again.

Joey's smile never faded as he walked up to a seat beside Terrence, followed by Salsberry. The other students merely gawked at him with admiration. Even Marcus couldn't help but look at him in amazement.

He thought to himself. _This might not be a bad day after all._

* * *

A/N: Sorry if there's still no violence, gore, brutality, sadism, bloodshed, murder, carnage, or even romance included here yet. I'm still trying to lay the background of the story, making it as interesting as possible. I want each person to have their own sense of uniqueness. That's all I really have to say for now... 


	4. Fitting In

Lunch break came about 15 minutes past noon. Their History professor, Mr. Farver, had so delightedly given them the privilege of recounting Walter High's colorful (if not over exaggerated) history that was already in excess after his own life's account.

If it had not been for some tactless youth who came barging about to convene with his friend then Mr. Farver would have gone on endlessly. Nonetheless, things had gone on a bit smoother now since Mr. Coltaire's tirade a while back. What came next were the usual first day lectures from various professors, with the exclusion of a quiz the next day.

Marcus stood up, feeling like he hadn't moved for hours, even though he had been squirming in his seat all this time, trying to attain a comfortable slouch. Terrence had kept on scribbling nonstop, already reaching halfway into his brand new notebook. He was careful not to let anyone have a glimpse on it, which the only one who had any interest with it at all was Marcus.

The big guy Salsberry stood up, too. He looked at Joey who was still sitting down, twiddling with his pen. Joey looked wistful as he stared at nothing in particular, but then turned to Salsberry just seconds later, as if he had sensed him staring.

"Oh, yeah, right." Joey mumbled. He put the pen in his pocket and stood up as well.

Before he could start going, Marcus called out to him.

"Hey—Joey, right? That was some thing else you pulled back—"

Joey hadn't even turned towards Marcus when they were interrupted by two boys that had stepped forward. They had their focus solely on Joey, grinning at him like a pair of hungry hyenas.

"Hey that was sick, man. Totally awesome how you put that jackass in his place." One of the two said. A relatively tall fellow, wearing baggy pants, black shirt with the name Metallica written, and an army vest over it to go along.

"That was unbelievable how you pushed that slip up his face and how red Coltaire's face was. You even took a jab at his name and got away with it." The other boy added.

They almost looked identical in stature and attire, wearing the same style of clothes, except he didn't have a vest and his shirt had a different rock band logo on it. The only other thing that distinguished them was that the boy with the army vest had his hair all spiked up while the other had a mop-top.

The two boys both raised their hands signaling for a high five from Joey. Joey stood there for a second, looking at the two. Marcus could tell he wasn't really favoring the two boys' presence.

However, so as not to rebuff the two enthusiasts, Joey likewise raised his hand albeit in a dispassionate way. The two boys didn't waver one bit; they responded with such fervor that Joey staggered as they slapped his hand. Without a word to the two boys, Joey left followed by Salsberry.

"What's his problem?" The spiky haired boy asked his friend after Joey's abrupt desertion.

Marcus, who stood there the whole time, suddenly left the room to follow Joey. He zoomed past the two bewildered lads with Terrence in his tail. They were able to catch up with Joey and Salsberry, walking silently in the partially deserted corridor.

Joey detected Marcus coming up beside them. "Ah, hey, man."

He was showing the same attitude he gave towards the other two boys. Salsberry walked on without uttering a single sound, like his whole mouth was wired shut.

Marcus was trying to find the right conversation to start with. He didn't think praising Joey's daringness was the right way to go yet it was the very reason why he was there.

"Hey. Did you see the Huskies last night? They totally sucked. It was a fucking blowout." Marcus started; he figured sports were always the no.1 conversation starter for a guy.

"Yeah, they didn't get anything going." Joey replied, looking straight ahead. "Forrester was held to 8 points. It's already the Huskies 5th straight loss. At this point, they'll be back in the lottery again."

Marcus thought he made some headway. Joey was opening up with their discussion.

"A lot of good they got trading Johnson away. Their draft pick was a bust. And now they're thinking of moving the team." Joey continued, his voice getting more alive.

"Yeah, but I'm still gonna be a fan no matter what happens." Marcus chuckled; he somehow found it funny hearing his own confession. "Hey, how about you, Terrence? Who do you like?"

"Um…I like the Patriots." Terrence answered him. He seemed evasive, walking a few feet behind Marcus, although he was clearly following them.

Marcus craned his neck to look at Terrence, raising his eyebrow. "That's a football team. We're talkin' about hoops here."

"Ah-I like the Patriots, t-too." Salsberry cut-in. He blurted out the words so suddenly that it was as if he choked it out.

"Steady there, big fella. Don't overdo it." Joey chortled, putting his arm over Salsberry's shoulders.

His large frame made it hard for Joey to walk in an upright position, turning lopsided in the process. Salsberry felt a little embarrassed but showed his appreciation by making a slight chuckle. Joey just laughed and tried to pull him down by the neck as they made their way into the cafeteria.

They each took a tray and proceeded to line up for the lunch lady to serve them. A boy in front, noticing Joey who was just behind him, turned around to face them.

"You're that guy who took Coltaire down a peg." The boy pointed at Joey with approval. He was short, about 5'2. A battle-worn green flat cap resting on his head, while a handful of red hair protruded beneath it. He also had a gray sweater vest and what seemed was once white overalls on.

"Joey, is it?" The boy continued, "I'm Robby Walsh—"

He stopped briefly for the lunch lady to fill up his tray. Mash potatoes, a skinny chicken wing, and green gelo. Once Joey had his plate filled Robby resumed the conversation.

"That was a great stunt you pulled, but a word of advice, you'd do good messing with some other prof."

Robby sat down in an empty table, then ushered Joey to do the same. At first, Joey hesitated and even considered walking past, but then he saw Marcus, Terrence, and Salsberry already taking seats so he had no choice. Robby was startled to see the other three sitting down, like he had never noticed them all this time. He looked at Marcus who was savagely tearing in at his chicken wing.

"Hey, you're a new kid too right?" Robby said, snapping his fingers repeatedly, trying to figure out his name.

"It's Marcus." He clarified after taking a big gulp of food down his throat.

"Terrence." The tall skinny one said after without even being asked yet.

There was a long pause before Salsberry tried to speak, but just as he started to Robby had gone on again.

"Well I'm Robby, glad to meet you—ah, 'ey, sorry, didn't get your name there." Robby turned towards the only other nameless boy in the group, apparently he had noticed Salsberry's failed attempt at speaking.

"I-It's Jason…" His voice trailing, after that he went back to his tray without uttering anything more.

"Jason, huh?" Robby had an intrigued look in his eyes. "Anyway, you guys are all new here, right? Well, I'm pretty much in the know of what happens around here so if you wanna know something or need something just talk to me."

"Alright Robby," Marcus spoke, taking up his offer. "Tell me something about the guys here."

Robby cleared his throat; this question had probably been working on his mind some time ago already. "Ah, let's see, well first, there's the jockheads. The guys who '_give honor_' to the school with the only thing they can do, play sports. They're basically untouchable cause the whole faculty sides with them, thinks like they're the model student or something apart from those kiss-ass ones."

Joey, Marcus, and Jason all looked at a table being occupied by a number of jocks; Terrence was the only one unconcerned.

A rowdy bunch they were, conversing loudly with each other and bellowing out laughs. The blond jock in their class was there, too. He seemed to be recounting a football tale to his fellow jocks, exemplifying a throwing stance as he did so. Marcus didn't recognize any of the others except for that other jock who was always with the blond one.

Robby went on. "And then you got the brainiacs, they're alright. They usually let you copy their homework and stuff. They're good people, but pushovers really, so they just try to keep everybody happy like that. The sorry ones are the unsociable nerds who try to keep to themselves. Those guys get picked on the most by the tough guy assholes here."

They noticed a couple of guys close in on this particular loner on the far corner. One of the guys took a seat beside, wrapping his arm around the lone student sitting there. The startled boy turned before turning back again to see another bully take his untouched gelo by the hand and gobble it down. The guy sitting beside snorted out a laugh, hitting the poor kid on the head as he got up. The other unceremoniously wiped his gelo-tainted fingers on the hapless boy's sleeve and then smiling jestingly like they were long-time buddies, leaving him in this sad state.

Robby sighed, "It's not enough that they copy from them without asking, they gotta humiliate them too."

Marcus was the only one who noticed it, but Joey had his fists clenched as his eyes lingered on the departing ruffians.

Robby steered the conversation back on track again. "Of course there are more smart girls here than boys. The girls are much easier to copy from, just give them a little compliment here and there—but don't expect anything from them during tests. They'll shut their yaps up faster than you can blink."

"…speaking of girls." Marcus slyly added, his eyes landing on a table full of chatting girls.

"Yeah, those girls are pretty." Robby agreed with him, looking at the same direction with enamored eyes. "But they're taken already, you know, they're cheerleaders. So you probably guessed who their boyfriends are: jockheads."

Robby cast the jocks table an irritating look, nobody there noticed. Marcus was still eyeing the girls on his side. One of them, a long red-haired lass, caught sight of him staring; he gave a little smile back. The girl expressed a haughty stare in return, and then resumed talking to her friends. Marcus could only scratch his head from the apparent rejection.

Joey, who hadn't touched his tray up to this point as he had been listening intently on the conversations, was about to start eating when Robby interrupted once more.

"Hey, as I was saying, you shouldn't have messed with Coltaire back there." Robby said. "That guy's a fucking lunatic. All he does is embarrass students who piss him off, but you're probably already in that category anyways after what you did."

Robby's stern warning wasn't enough to shake Joey's spirits. He simply shrugged it off and laughed. "I don't care really, he's just the same old grouch like the rest of them."

"You're pretty confident, aren't you? Robby replied; astounded at what he was hearing.

"Not confident, just indifferent really." Joey voiced with the utmost clarity of being true to his word.

"Still, since you're already in his hit list then why not just mess with him some more." Joey thought Robby was finished talking. He had grabbed his spoon when Robby broke in again.

Hey! You know what really riles him up? He's got this crush thing on this teach, Ms. Leticia." Robby divulged.

"Who, Coltaire?" Joey asked, surprised. "But, um…isn't he…"

"Hey, wasn't that the teacher, you said, transferred you in our class?" Marcus butted in, pointing at Joey. He nodded in response.

"Yup, that's right. That horny old bastard's got the hots for someone who's probably twice his age." Robby mocked. "Did you see how he flushed instantly when you said her name?"

"Yeah…he did pause suddenly." Joey said as he pondered about it.

"Is she hot?" Marcus asked, smirking as he did.

"Um…yeah, I guess so." Joey replied with a look of someone not really fond of answering superficial questions like that.

"What'd ya mean 'I guess so'? She's fucking hot, man! Nice curves, big tits—I'd like to bump into her in a corridor and just bury my face onto that chest." Robby exclaimed with utter delight.

"Oh yeah? that'd be sweet!" Marcus agreed in unison, finishing it up with a high five.

"The old bastard even used his fake teacher routine on you and it backfired." Robby continued. "I don't think he's ever been humiliated that much by one student. The old geezer's probably losing it already, his mind's getting retarded from all that shit his been giving—"

"Excuse me, are you Joey Atreides?"

Just then, a girl came by at their table, tapping Joey from behind. She had her brown hair braided into a tight bun, freckles showing brightly over her pink cheeks. The skinny-figured girl wore a plaid red yellowish blouse and skirt combo, along with pink sneakers that didn't quite go along with it. Her eyes darted over Joey behind a pair of glasses showered with miniature stickers of unicorns and other cute animal figures. She flashed him a salutatory smile, her braces gleaming spick-and-span, waiting for a response.

"Uh, yeah—ugh—t-that's me." Joey answered, massaging his ribs after an overexcited nudge from Marcus.

He was giving Joey the green-eyed look and a _"Who's this girl, you sly dog?"_ stare at him. He stared back with his own _"I don't have a freaking clue"_ look.

The girl pushed back her glasses and then continued. "Well, um, Mr. Coltaire wants to see you. He's waiting for you in Room 319, on the second floor of the Alamone Buildin—"

"Yeah we know, that's our room." Robby said, irritatingly. His eyes were looking at her impatiently, as if telling her to beat it if nothing else was to be said. The girl did say nothing more and left with a huff.

Joey leaned back in his chair, his lips curled in an exasperated way. He let out a sigh. "That bastard, just doesn't give up. Does he?"

The others around the table all had confused looks pointed at him. Joey just sat there for a moment, then got up and signaled them with a wave before leaving.

* * *

Joey reached Room 319 ten minutes later, his hands in his pockets, striding nonchalantly around a corner. He was clearly making an effort not to show any emotion when he confronted the egotistical monster up ahead. He stopped short from turning left towards the door, noticing it stood ajar. Voices came out, two of them. 

"That boy is out of control! He needs to be disciplined, Will!" A booming voice echoed; Coltaire's. Joey actually felt his insides drop suddenly. His usually unruffled demeanor had faltered just a bit.

"Yes, I know" a second voice ushered; this one was more calm yet stern as he spoke. "But screaming his name over the PA announcer is not helpful at all."

"Why not?! I think it would, helps to instill fear into their little bastard minds—"

Coltaire abruptly broke his rant to look at Joey who had just entered the room. His eyes turned bloodshot instantly.

"You, boy. Come here now." Coltaire's words stopped there. His voice became lowered when he said it, seemingly trying to gather himself, or possibly holding his outburst until he could get his hands around Joey's neck.

Joey stepped towards them. He glanced at the tall figure next to Coltaire. The man had a face chiseled with immeasurable seriousness upon him. He wore a plain gray suit, brown polished loafers, and a black tie that might have suffocated anyone else who fancied wearing it.

Coltaire sat in the teacher's desk, clutching a piece of paper that Joey was already familiar with. "So, you think you could get away with it boy?" Coltaire said unpleasantly, his voice beginning to rise again.

"Calm down." The man named Will spoke curtly.

"I am calm!" Coltaire fired back edgily, although more quietly. His attention went back to Joey, shaking the piece of paper in his direction this time. "This is inexcusable, simply inexcusable!"

He straightened out the piece of paper and read the permission slip Joey had given a while ago. He scanned it in a mere second as if he had memorized every word from reading it over and over again.

"Honestly, I ask" Coltaire scorned, "what kind of son is raised when he sullies his own parents' name like this? And to think their souls are being tarnished yet—"

"They're not dead, just separated. And they couldn't have raised me long enough." Joey retaliated, albeit this appeared to hurt him more than the other way around.

Nonetheless, this little act of defiance fueled Coltaire's anger even more. "Ah, well is that so, boy? They couldn't handle your little bratty nonse—"

Coltaire's intensifying aggression was stopped once again as Will's hand caught ground on his shoulders. No words were spoken between them but there was an understanding resonating in their presence. One that didn't require any backlash of animosity to be shed, only a bond formed from sheer respect. Or fear, maybe.

It was Will who talked then. "Mr. Atreides, what you did was very unacceptable and is a serious offense here in Walter High."

Joey stood silently, almost remorselessly, like so many times he had been in that situation.

"As of now your detention is resumed and increased to two weeks. I will forgo this first incident; however, I ask that you not forge anymore signatures of your parents from this moment on. That is all, you may go."

Will's hawk-like eyes pierced through his stainless-steel glasses and unto Joey who stood motionless and slightly surprised that he had only gotten at what he thought was a slap on the wrist.

This apparently didn't sit well with Coltaire either. "That's it?! William, you're not serious are you? This boy needs to be punished severely, not-not…_like that_! You can't let him go that easily, I haven't finished with—"

"—have you got any brothers or sisters, Joey?" William asked, ignoring Coltaire completely.

"N-No, sir. I'm an only child." Joey stuttered, perhaps from this unusual question or the fact that William called him in his first name so casually.

"Ah, I see…and I assume you live with your uncle or some sort." William prodded on, eyes not wandering anywhere else.

"Y-Yeah—I do." Now Joey was beginning to feel a little uncomfortable, like his whole life was being scrutinized for probing. He figured if this was some kind of psychological threat for him to behave, it was working like no other.

A long moment of silence ensued before William continued, "Yes, sometimes it's harder that way…but it still doesn't exempt any of us." He finally finished, closing his eyes and averting his direction away from Joey, signaling that he could leave.

Joey didn't move immediately, still thinking what William meant, then realizing there wasn't the slightest, he turned and left. For some reason Coltaire wasn't objecting anymore, he had sat still from that time onwards when William interrupted. He didn't realize until now, but Coltaire seemed to have calmed down, almost despondent. His eyes weren't looking menacingly at Joey anymore; they were cast down on the floor.

A perplexed look dangled upon him as he walked through the corridor, the same look imprinted on the others when he left them with their half-finished lunch trays. He thought about his own lunch tray and realized begrudgingly that he hadn't had any. Less than 10 minutes now before the bell rang, not enough time left. So, why the hell was he going back?


End file.
